Nocturnal Encounter
by bewarethemelodrama
Summary: A chance encounter. A night to remember. Buffy/Supernatural crossover - Faith/Dean. Reuploaded to fix site errors. Insert generic 'I own nothing' disclaimer here.
1. Beginnings

After a few jokes about the title and references to 'nocturnal emissions', I decided to keep it. Just to spite you. You know who you are.

A one-shot for the moment. We'll see how it goes and how you all like it before I decide to add to it. Also, I've never written this pairing before, so forgive me if the characterisation isn't quite there yet. They are meant to be younger than we're used to.

In Jossverse: Set after Faith's first watcher was killed but before she goes to Sunnydale and meets Buffy.

In Kripkeland: Set before Dean met up with Sam again.

* * *

_People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; never throw out anyone._

-Audrey Hepburn

* * *

"…Six disappearances in a month, all last seen after dark at the Six Bar just outside of Hughesville, Missouri. Three of them were seen playing pool with a dark haired girl. Thought you should check it out."

Dean clicked off his voicemail and stepped out of the Impala. The neon sign for Bar Six was flashing faintly. The red lights looked ready to give out at any minute. He slipped his phone back in his pocket as he entered through the front.

It was a dive even by Dean's standards. The windows were all blacked out, the only light from red bulbs above the bar and above a couple of the tables. The shadowy, red carpet was threadbare, spotted with mysterious dark patches which could have been blood, booze, who knew what. He bought a drink (bottled, he didn't trust the pipes in here) as he cased the place. There was an old juke box playing country music, and across the room a decrepit pool table. Two middle aged men were watching (nope, scratch that, make that leering at) an attractive dark haired girl. She was playing pool against a young, blonde guy in a cowboy hat. Jackpot. Dean let out a low whistle and turned to the bartender.

"A view like that must make the job easier huh?" he cocked his head in the girl's direction and the bartender glanced across.

"No complaints here," Dean smiled.

"She a regular?" the bartender shook his head.

"Not really, been coming in for about a month. Usually just hustles guys at pool, has a couple drinks and leaves." Dean laughed.

"Looking like that I'd bet she has plenty of poor idiots lining up to get hustled," she was leaning over the table, low-cut top giving Dean a view he wasn't entirely unhappy with. She looked up and smiled at him before sinking the eight ball. Dean started. No way. Could she have heard him from there? She patted the guy in the cowboy hat on the cheek and tucked the wad of bills he – grudgingly – gave her into the back pocket of her jeans. She slid a note from the roll as she walked over to the bar and nodded to the bartender.

"Same again," she hopped onto a stool next to Dean and looked at him slyly. "Don't suppose you want to try your hand at pool?" He smirked at her.

"Wouldn't want to take away your hard earned cash darlin'," her laugh was short as she rolled her eyes.

"Like you could," Dean looked her up and down out the corner of his eye. Dark jeans, leather jacket, black tank-top, boots that looked suspiciously like combat boots. So she was a bit of tomboy, either that or the shoes were a necessary practicality… which would fit his theory. She took her drink and paid, accepting her change with a low, "Thanks man," through full lips stained cherry red. Dean smirked.

"Boston, right?" she looked at him calmly.

"Sorry?" Dean coughed slightly, shifting so his arm brushed hers. She looked down at it, expression knowing but impatient.

"The accent. Boston?"

"Yeah, and?"

"You're a long way from home is all, how'd you end up in Hicksville Missouri?" she looked uncomfortable as she swung herself round and off the stool.

"I thought this place was called Hughesville or something," she hedged.

"Yeah, I know. It was a joke," she feigned deep concentration, biting down on her lip. Dean resisted the urge to smirk. The girl was a definite tease.

"Isn't Hicksville in New York?"

"And Ohio actually."

"Didn't know that one," she quirked her head to the side and smiled at him, a slow, languorous smile. "What's your name?"

"Dean," he supplied. Then, almost an afterthought. "Winchester."

"Winchester? Like the gun right?"

"Got it in one."

"Well Winchester, if you want to play, you know where to find me," if Dean didn't know better, he'd have sworn that she fluttered her eyelashes at him. In his experience, no matter how hot they were, girls in combat boots didn't _flutter_ eyelashes. Wink, sure, but flutter? That was the girly ones. He watched her ass as she sauntered back across the bar, hips swaying just a little too much to not be on purpose. Definitely a tease. He watched her play pool against the cowboy for half an hour before stepping into the bathroom to leave a voicemail for his dad. He had a lead; he'd call him once the job was done. When he stepped back into the bar she was gone. He fought off the irritation, and went to the bar.

"Where'd the hot chick go?" the bartender gave him a knowing look as he polished glasses with a rag. Dean almost snorted. Let the guy think he knew anything this time.

"She left with Joe."

"Joe?"

"Kid in the cowboy hat."

"Crap," he thought he muttered it low, but the bartender smiled and shrugged.

"Better luck next time buddy," Dean tossed a ten dollar note on the bar. He made it a rule to always tip bartenders, made them more likely to be helpful if they saw you again.

"Yeah, thanks," he made for the exit. They couldn't have gone too far yet. He'd find her. Save the dumb kid in the hat at least. He headed to his car and grabbed a silver knife. He considered the rock-salt shotgun but decided against it. He'd touched her, so she wasn't a ghost. He stuffed a hip flask of holy water in his jacket pocket.

Five minutes out the parking lot he heard a grunt and the sound of something slamming on concrete. He followed the sounds to an alley in time to see the cowboy on the floor with her straddling him. Dean ran full pelt at her, blood pounding in his ears. He tackled her off him but she rolled away and was on her feet quickly. He had to give it to her, girl had some reflexes.

"How sweet, come to save your buddy?" she jumped and kicked Dean in the chest, knocking him down so he was sprawled on his back. "How many of you are there in this town?" Dean got to his feet and took the knife from his sleeve.

"I'm new here."

"Nice toy. Maybe I'll keep it once you're dust," he went to punch her but she blocked it and grabbed his arm, flipping him onto his ass again. Something about her reflexes being a little _too_ quick flashed through Dean's mind as he slashed at her with the knife and scrambled away from her. The cowboy was trying to sneak past her but she kicked the back of his knees sending him to the floor. She punched him twice, and he kicked out at her legs. She sidestepped it and kicked him in the face. He was knocked on his back and blood spurted from his nose. She turned to check on Dean and he punched her in the face. She grabbed his knife hand and twisted it, so the knife clattered to the floor. He punched her again with his free hand and she head-butted him in response. Dean felt his lip split. Joe the Cowboy leapt at her, and Dean realised his face had shifted into something horrible, something demonic. She grabbed the cowboy and twisted, flinging him into Dean.

"I think I've made a mistake," choked Dean, rolling out from under the man and pulling the hip flask from his pocket. He fumbled with the lid, finally ripping it off and splashing some of the water in his face. Cowboy hissed and reeled back, face smoking. Dean looked over at the girl and they locked eyes for a moment, faces reflecting shock. He broke it and grinned, flicking the holy water at her face. She didn't smoke or burn, just licked it off her top lip with a quizzical smile. She ran toward him and Dean hesitated. "Erm… Sorry?"

"Drop idiot!" he glanced behind him at Joe and dropped down in time for her to hurl a wooden stake. Cowboy stopped, stumbled a step and exploded in a cloud of dust. All overDean's jacket. His _favourite_ jacket. He scowled.

"What the hell was that?"

"Vampire."

"Vampires I've seen don't look like that. Plus I thought the stake thing was a myth," she held out a hand and he let her pull him to his feet.

"I don't know. Different mutations or something? Vamp's a vamp at the end of the day."

"Fair point," he dusted off his jacket, scowling. Looking up he realised that she was looking him up and down.

"So… what are you exactly Winchester?" she raised her arms and stretched them over her head making her chest entirely too prominent. He almost glared. She was definitely doing it on purpose. He chose to smile instead.

"I'm a hunter."

"A hunter?" she laughed outright. "What, like a _rogue_ demon hunter?" her voice was mocking and Dean looked at her sharply.

"More like the regular kind. Kind of the family business."

"Yeah, sure," he was starting to get irritated.

"Well what are you? You're not a demon, but you're too quick to be human," he fingered his lip. "Too strong too," she rolled her head and cracked her neck.

"I'm a slayer."

"Slayer? I thought that was just a band," she laughed.

"Research it. I'm sure you'll find plenty if you look hard enough," she took a step toward him, and goddamnit if Dean didn't see something predatory in her gaze. "So, you want to get out of here? I don't know about you, but all this _adrenaline_, I gotta work it out my system somehow." Dean wasn't stupid.

"You heard what I said in the bar didn't you?" she smiled. Lifted her eyebrows in a way that could only mean yes. "I'm staying at a motel about a mile down the road."

"You got a car or we runnin'?" Dean smirked at the question.

"Car."

"Lead the way Winchester."

They didn't speak on the way to the car, or in the short drive to the generic, run-down motel. They barely even looked at each other. Dean opened the door to his room, a mess of seventies paisley walls and cheap plywood furniture, and followed her in. He locked the door and tossed his jacket and the key on the dilapidated easy chair in the corner. She pulled off her jacket, revealing a tattoo on her upper arm. She tossed it on top of his and Dean immediately ran his hand down her arm and over the tattoo.

"What's your name?" he asked. She pulled his head down to hers, whispered against his mouth.

"Faith," she ran her fingers through his hair, along his neck; one fisted the neck of his t-shirt. He closed the millimetres separating them and brushed her lips with his. She opened her mouth, caught his lower lip and sucked it softly. He opened his mouth and felt her tongue stroke his. She tasted like beer and cherry lip gloss. The kiss became hard, more demanding, and she grabbed the front of his t-shirt and pulled him over to the bed. Before she could, he pushed her down onto it and pulled off his t-shirt. He threw it and leant down over her. He kissed her neck as he ran his hand up her sides, pulling her arms above her head and pinning them there with one hand. He felt rather than saw her smirk and he kissed her on the mouth again, growling a little when he felt hard little teeth bite down on his top lip. He pulled her top up and off with his free hand, throwing it in the same general direction as his own. His hand roved over the bare skin of her stomach, and she used the opportunity to flip them so he was on his back. She grinned down at him before reaching for his belt buckle.

Dean was woken by sunlight filtering through crappy motel blinds and the creak of the door opening. He sat up and saw Faith entering the room with a paper cup in each hand. Her dark eye make-up was smudged under her eyes.

"I got coffee."

"Thanks," Dean twisted his legs over the side of the bed. He spotted his boxers on the floor and grabbed them. He pulled them on as Faith put one of the cups on the table beside him.

"Don't thank me yet. It's from a machine," Dean looked at the cup distrustfully. "Yeah. Tastes like crap, but crappy coffee's better than no coffee right?" he nodded and took a careful sip. She was right. It was crappy. "Look man, I gotta go," he looked at her. She wouldn't look him in the eye.

"So what? Get some get gone?" he put his coffee back down on the table. Faith chuckled humourlessly.

"I like that," she looked at him, expression serious. She turned and picked up her jacket from the chair. "I've done my job here. So have you. Time to move on."

"Why don't you come with me?" he didn't know why he said it, and it made Faith stop and look at him quizzically. Finally she shrugged.

"No offense Winchester, but I'm not exactly a team player."

"Try it. Hell, you might surprise yourself," she sipped her coffee thoughtfully.

"It never really worked out before now. You know what they say: Count on no one, and no one can let you down." Dean shook his head.

"Wow. I'm a pessimist and even I found that depressing."

"Look, I just came to say goodbye. Found a guy who's driving to Cali. He said I could hitch a ride."

"I could drive you there."

"No thanks," she leant down and kissed him. A not quite innocent kiss that made Dean think about the night before… "It was nice. Pleasure to meet you and all. But I gotta go." Dean stood quickly and grabbed her arm, drawing her in for one last kiss. He could feel his heart pounding as he heard the coffee cup drop. Her hands came up to his face and she bit down on his lower lip. He drew away and leant his forehead against hers for a moment without opening his eyes. He took a step back and let go of her.

"See you round Faith."

"Sure."


	2. Chapter 2

Thought I'd try and lengthen this after all. Gonna be a multi-chapter kind of deal (I'm kinda feeling the Faith/Dean thing at the moment). I'm making no promises over update frequency though.

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

Faith had tried to fit in. She'd tried to be the good girl, the team player. She'd even tried to do the monogamy thing with Wood. But no matter what she did, even after Sunnydale was nothing but a ditch, even after she'd helped the Scoobies gather and train the new Slayers in Cleveland, Faith knew that they didn't trust her. So Faith did one of the things that she did best.

She left.

She had been pretty good at being a team player, and done a decent impression of a good girl, but as each of the new Slayers was told about her past, she could see the changes in their eyes. She knew they all wondered why Buffy and Giles let her stay with them. They thought she was a risk, a liability. She was dangerous.

She couldn't ever try to deny that last one.

Which was why she knew it was better for her to leave. They needed stability in their new, little Slayer Academy, and they couldn't have that while she was still there.

So Faith headed out, onto the road. Giles and Willow called sometimes to check in, or to guide her toward the spooky happenings that they picked up on. Faith wasn't sure if Buffy even knew that they called her. Or that she owned a cell phone for that matter.

Faith was surprised to learn that she didn't really mind. She was good at taking care of herself. She was good at being alone. She had plenty of practice after all. So she left them, caught the first bus at the depot, and landed in Columbus. She dusted a couple of vamps, but stayed less than a week. She wanted out of Ohio, they had enough Slayers to take care of things.

She bounced from small town to small town, skeezy motel to skeezier motel, before deciding to stick to the bigger cities. You could scratch more itches in a city, and one of the things she'd learned in LA with Angel, was that there was always plenty of action in a metropolis for someone with her select skill set.

She was right.


End file.
